


Senses and shivering...

by aljohnson



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Banter, Dead Man's Chest, F/M, Fluff, Huddling For Warmth, Kickstarter, Missing Scene, Non-Sexual Intimacy, braces (mention), episode insert, magic towel, ninja Mr Butler, the long date at queenscliff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-16 13:08:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12343299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aljohnson/pseuds/aljohnson
Summary: An episode insert scene for 'Dead Man's Chest', inspired by the script snippet released by Every Cloud - which they've confirmed we can use (and which Drew has asked to see!), as we continue to spread the word about the Kickstarter. Two-ish days to go...





	Senses and shivering...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Inzannatea (Zanna23)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zanna23/gifts), [Drew Grove](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Drew+Grove).



> [Kickstarter for Phryne here!](https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/468758721/miss-fisher-the-movie)

“I think we've seen all we need to for the moment, don't you? It's only right that I escort you home.” Jack was trying very hard to maintain the air of ‘lightly flirtatious banter’ that he had found himself becoming more comfortable with when around Miss Fisher.

“If you insist,” replied Phryne, tilting her head slightly before she dropped from the pier into the water.

They half-swam, half-paddled to the shore, keeping underneath the pier to avoid discovery. Jack had, somehow, managed to retain his hat. As they half-crawled, half-staggered through the increasingly shallow water and onto the beach, Jack felt the drips of water from his hat dripping down his neck. He shivered as the cold and salty water chilled his skin. 

 

“We need to get warm,” Phryne stated, as she pulled her beret from her head, wringing out the excess water from it.

Jack sneezed, “At the South Pole, they recommend skin to skin contact. Achoo”. He attempted to find his handkerchief, before realising his effort was pointless. 

Phryne smiled. Bless him, the adorable man. He was trying so hard. He seemed a little more free here than he usually was in the city. Perhaps it was the sea air? “Well I certainly think getting out of these clothes can only be a good idea.” 

The house was mercifully near to the beach, and they both paced quickly up the street, anxious to warm up and dry off. 

Slipping in through the back door, Phryne paused in the kitchen. Kip had been relocated to one of the upstairs bedrooms, so they would not disturb the boy. She needed to get these damp clothes off, and quickly.

Jack scanned the room. They shouldn’t drip water all through the house – that was inconsiderate, at the very least. The dying embers of the fire flickered in the range. A basket of logs lay to one side of the large fireplace. As Jack took a squelchy step towards the range, he heard a heavy thud behind him. 

He turned and saw Phryne peeling off her outer layers of clothing. He swallowed and quickly turned himself and his attention back towards the restoration of the fire. Behind him, the sounds of clothes being removed continued. Jack closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He reminded himself that he’d seen almost all of Phryne previously. Twice. Well, once. Ish. He dismissed the incident in the Turkish Bath House due to the towel, but the fan dance had been a different proposition altogether. Thank the lord for the little feathery skirt-thing, or he would have been in real trouble. 

“Come on Jack, your turn. I’ll stoke the flames for a bit.” Phryne smiled. She could see the tension in him, even through all the multiple damp layers. 

Jack swallowed once more, and slowly turned around, preparing himself for the reality of a sight he had only imagined up until now. Not that he’d imagined it, of course. Well, not all that often. And he could stop. Anytime. 

His brow furrowed. “Where did you get the towel?” he asked. He was surprised that he was surprised – he really felt he shouldn’t be by now. 

Oh his brow had furrowed! He was so adorable when he did that. And his hair was falling free of its pomade – which always left him looking deliciously dishevelled. “Darling Mr B. I presume. That man really is a marvel!”

Jack scanned the kitchen table. Another towel was folded neatly on its surface. Jack released the breath he had been holding. Quickly he shucked off his overcoat, jacket, waistcoat and tie. He gulped and quickly chanced a look over his shoulder. Phryne was, surprisingly, poking the fire in the range. 

Turning his attention back towards the table he shucked off his braces and started unbuttoning his shirt. 

Over at the fire, Phryne smiled. She could hear the moment when the removal of clothing had slowed to a halt. Could hear the moment of hesitation, could almost hear the war being waged within him. He really had been a single pillar for far too long…

He carefully placed the shirt onto the growing pile of clothes – both his and Phryne’s mingled together. He tried not to think about that too much – tried not to imagine if this were some other circumstance. He shook his head slightly as he pulled off his vest. He shouldn’t think that way. He was aware that he was developing feelings for her. He didn’t think that feelings were welcome, when it came to Phryne. Miss Fisher. He wasn’t a fool. He saw the way she was around men – the way she flirted with all of them – he could spot the ones she was going to share a bed with. He couldn’t allow himself to be just one more link in the chain. It wasn’t in his nature, and neither was it his style, even if his mates were telling him he should embrace his newly re-found bachelorhood. Shoes, socks. He had reached the final frontier. 

He hadn’t taken his clothes off in front of a woman in… he gazed upwards, examining the ceiling as if for assistance. Years, he concluded. It was years. ‘Come on Robinson’ he muttered to himself, ‘you survived the war, you can survive this’. 

Phryne risked a glance over his shoulder. She stifled the gasp that threatened to betray her. Oh, Jack! What delights indeed he had been hiding under that suit! It was one way to warm herself up, she supposed… 

With any other man, she knew exactly how this would have gone. They’d both have been naked within seconds of creeping through the door, and would be rutting on the kitchen table even now. 

But Jack was not any other man. She knew, or thought she did, that he found her attractive. Could see him, ‘appreciating her assets’, on occasion. Saw how he reacted around the men who found themselves caught up in their cases. He really was an honourable man, and she could feel the heartache pouring from him, on those evenings in her parlour when he relaxed a fraction. She found him attractive of course, what woman wouldn’t? 

Before, well, before he had been married. And now, now it felt like it somehow wasn’t the right time. She knew he was a serious man, and presumed he approached his dalliances in the same serious manner. If indeed he engaged in dalliances. It was almost certainly not his style, she mused. He’d think it disrespectful, no doubt. 

So, no. Not yet. Yes, any other man, they would have been warming each other up very vigorously indeed. But not Jack. She turned her attention back towards the fire as she saw him loosening the fly of his trousers – no need to make the poor man any more uncomfortable than he obviously already was. 

The towel was surprisingly fluffy. Jack wondered, idly, how Mr Butler managed it. Perhaps it was Miss William’s skills. He tried not to dwell on that. Ensuring the towel was firmly secured, Jack turned and found Phryne still with her back to him, seemingly staring at the fire. He shivered slightly, the cold of the water and the chill of the house at this late hour conspiring against his body’s attempt to regain equilibrium. 

Striding across the room, projecting considerably more confidence than he felt, Jack placed himself next to Phryne in front of the fire. 

Phryne glanced up and down, taking in Jack’s appearance. “The towel suits you, Inspector.”

“I’m not sure it gives the required gravitas for effective policing, Miss Fisher.”

‘Miss Fisher’. Always ‘Miss Fisher’. She wanted him to call her ‘Phryne’. She had invited him to often enough. 

“Jack…” she hoped the tone of voice conveyed her meaning.

“Phryne.” Jack replied, with a small smile. 

 

They stood in silence, each watching the fire.

“How are you doing?” Phryne asked.

“I’ve been worse.” Jack grimaced as he answered.

“Mmm”, Phryne agreed. At least there was no mud. 

Jack turned his head. Phryne’s arms were pale – paler even than usual. “We should…” he coughed, “huddle. For warmth.”

Phryne tried not to smile. She was shivering. 

Jack shuffled awkwardly towards Phryne. It was a move of barely inches, but it felt like miles. He’d held her before, he recalled, although he had been rushing her towards freedom. And the hospital. Although he was fairly sure Phryne hadn’t really been aware of it. And he’d held her hand when they’d found her sister.

He snapped back to the present as he felt Phryne wrapping herself around him. On instinct, his arms moved and wrapped themselves around her. 

“Jack! Your back is freezing!” Phryne rubbed her hands across Jack’s skin. 

“So are your arms.” Deciding that being tentative was not the way to proceed, Jack rubbed Phryne’s arms enthusiastically. “Is that helping, at all?”

Phryne nodded, “I think so. I have at least stopped dripping water everywhere."

“You need another towel for your hair.”

“So do you.” said Phryne, reaching her hand up and carding her fingers through Jack’s loosening curls. 

“Miss Fisher! I do not believe my hair is cold!”

“Perhaps not Jack, but I do like seeing you slightly undone.” She smiled. He certainly looked after himself. His chest, which she was snuggled against, was smooth and pleasingly muscular. She breathed in deeply. Despite the sea water, the subtly masculine smell of ‘Jack’ was still in evidence. She gripped him more tightly. She tried not to notice how snugly her body aligned with his. 

He wasn’t sure, actually, how long it had been since he’d held a woman like this – with what he considered to be tenderness, and some affection, and without much clothing. Now, standing in a stranger’s kitchen, effectively naked, in the middle of the night, cold and wet, he realised how much he’d missed this – this connection to another person, this sense of intimacy. He tensed, almost imperceptibly.

The change in tension was enough to be felt by Phryne. She shifted her weight. He wasn’t becoming aroused. She’d have been impressed if he had been, given their physical situation and circumstances. So just general discomfort then. She sighed, she might need to tackle the unspoken… something… between them directly.

“You’re a very good cuddler Jack.”

“Thank you, Miss Fisher.”

She sighed.

“Sorry, Phryne…”

“You know Jack, if anything was ever going to happen between us. Not that I’m saying it would, of course. But if it did, it would be because both of us wanted it to.”

“Phryne?” Jack swallowed, nervously. 

“Consent, Jack. I enjoy the company of many men, as I think you know, but none of them are ever invited unless they come to me willingly.”

“I am still married. Technically, I mean. And even if that was all… finalised… and as much as I might… admire your… considerable assets, Miss Fisher, I’m not sure your sort of romantic encounter is my sort. I’m sorry if I’ve offended you…”

“Not at all Jack. That’s very honest. I would expect nothing less from so noble a man.” 

They stood in silence then again. Jack shifted his weight from one leg to the other. He could feel his toes when he wiggled them now. 

“You should know Jack, that if you change your mind, I’d be very willing to show you all my assets…” Phryne snuggled into him more – he felt strong and warm. She felt comfortable around him. ‘Comfortable’ did not describe Phryne’s feelings when she was usually in such close proximity to an attractive man. 

“Well, I’ll bear that in mind. And I just don’t know how I’m going to feel about, well, anything at all in even six months’ time. So much has changed for me in the last year.” It felt like an unaccountably honest moment, but he supposed if you couldn’t be honest with a woman whilst she was wrapped around you, wearing nothing but a towel, in the middle of the night in a dark kitchen, well, when could you be honest with anyone?

“Your flirting seems to be coming along nicely.”

“Does it? Well, I’ve started from a very low bar. Are you warmer?”

“I am. And this was… nice.”

“It was. It is.” Was it to be over so soon? This brief glimpse of an alternate world? A world where somehow they could be together. It wasn’t to be. There was too much ground between them. Too many differences. 

“Are you warm enough to make a break for upstairs?”

“What about our clothes?” Jack glanced towards the table. A small pool of water was starting to spread across the table. 

“No point in dripping water through the house.”

Jack looked around. There was a clothes maiden in the corner of the kitchen. “We could hang them up. Perhaps they’ll dry overnight?”

“I’m sure Mr B will work his magic. He really is a godsend.”

They shuffled apart – Jack rubbed his hands over Phryne’s shoulders. She felt much warmer than she had, and his concerns that the icy cold of the sea water would lead to hypothermia had subsided. He quickly moved to the corner, retrieving the wooden maiden and placing it in front of the range. 

They quietly arranged their clothes on the wooden cross beams, their hats ending up on adjoining upright supports. 

“I imagine it’s well past your bedtime Jack?”

“And far too early for yours?” Jack smiled. He’d done that a lot this evening. Which was strange he mused, given that they’d been attempting to chase down a murderer. 

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Phryne shrugged, with what she hoped was a slight air of mystery. Well, a woman had to conceal some things, even from the loveliest of men. “Should we take the back staircase, do you suppose? In case Aunt P is marauding the corridors?”

The hair on the back of Jack’s neck stood up – from fear now, not cold. Her Aunt terrified him. And he had stared down some of the nastiest criminals in Melbourne. “Yes, good idea. Do you want to lead the way?”

“You’ll be two steps behind me?”

“Always, Miss Fisher.”


End file.
